Disclaimer: The following is based of characters as developed by Hiromu Arkawa. By no means do I take credit for their creation and/or character development.
Author's notes: I know I know…it's been longer than the few weeks I promised some readers that I'd get this 2nd chapter out. Many things came up and I had to put this on the back burner for a little bit. I also rethought how I wanted to write this ficlet and for a while I had hit a small writer's block in trying to make this new execution in story work out. I think I've figured it out, now, and I hope you guys enjoy it :) (and that you guys remembered what happened last time. Please feel free to review ch1 if you need to!)
Part 2: Broken
"Maes…If only you could see me now…"
Roy felt his lungs shred themselves apart as his wet scream extended into infinity.
"Jesus…" "Someone get some rope! We're going to have to tie him down!" "Wake the doctor! This one's still alive!"
Riiinngg! The violent ring of the phone on the night stand jarred the colonel out of his sedate stupor.
"Hello?" He whispered hoarsely into the phone after the 2nd ring.
"Sir," Riza's gentle but firm voice came from the other end, "it's nearly 10 o'clock, now. Shall I reschedule your meetings today? If you are fatigued or ill, Sir, perhaps it would be wise to take a sick day to see the doctor."
"That will be unnecessary, Lieutenant," Mustang said, barely moving from his position on the stiff mattress, "I will be in shortly. Please send my apologies for running late along to my appointments this morning."
(Several years ago…)
This is wrong. These thoughts are all wrong.
One moment Roy's mind was continuously looping the angry words of Professor Hawkeye as the old man threw him out after learning his wishes to enlist as a state alchemist; and in the next he couldn't help but blush at the improper thoughts that had entered his mind and seemed to instantly wash his mind clean of all pain and torture.
He wasn't sure when the tall man had entered the dimly lit sleeping car—though he suspected that the man had done so while he, himself, had briefly nodded off—but now that he was here, nothing mattered anymore.
As soon as Roy had laid his eyes on him, he couldn't look away. Even when he averted his gaze to stare out into the infinite night and shadows rushing by the train, his eyes continued to linger on Maes' ghostly reflection, neatly framed in the train window.
Only when the train had been enveloped in the lantern studded darkness of a long tunnel could Roy look directly at him. With each flickering light that swept over Maes' sleeping form, Roy's heart skipped a beat.
Suddenly, he jumped. There was a large bump in the tracks that jarred each of the train cars as it went. Roy looked back at Maes, still sleeping, just in time to see his glasses slide off his nose and break once it hit the hard wood floor.
Without a second thought, Roy produced a piece of soft, white chalk from his pocket. Kneeling on the floor of the sleeping car, he drew a smooth, intricate circle around the broken glasses, careful to include all the pieces of the shattered lenses. Delicately placing his fingertips at the edges of the alchemy circle he closed his eyes and whispered something to himself.
No sooner did he do this, was there was a small bluish flash that highlighted the intricate design on the floor and enveloped the broken glasses. The light, though intense, faded quickly to reveal perfectly mended steel framed glasses.
Roy smiled silently to himself. It was a shame that his car mate wouldn't know of his kind service to him.
Gently, Roy picked up the man's glasses. They were heavier than they looked. Slowly, he approached his sleeping companion and began to slide the glasses back onto his face. His fingers began to tremble ever so slightly as they drew closer to Maes' smooth face. Maes' breath was soft and warm against his palm.
"Faggot," the hateful voice came from the door to sleeping car. Before Roy knew it, he was clutching the newly mended glasses tightly in his hand as a platinum blonde cadet grabbed him by the collar and pinned him against the cold train window, "Alchemist freak!" He threw a punch across the dark eyed alchemist's face, "what do you think you're doing?"
"His glasses—" was all Roy could get out past his already swelling lip before he was slammed against the wall again.
"I saw what you were doing…how you were looking at him…" The other young man sneered, "Fag!"
Roy swallowed hard and cast his eyes to the ground. He had seen this man before. In fact he had lived not too far from the Hawkeyes. The professor had caught him several times, as a boy, throwing stones at their house. Up until now, Roy had made a point to avoid him as the blonde and his gang was known to often gain pleasure from tormenting known alchemists.
"Hey!" Stirred from his slumber, the tall man jumped up. He placed his hand the angry blonde's shoulder, "Let him go, Peter. He didn't do anything."
"Hughes," Peter continued to stare down the young alchemist in his clutches, "you're lucky I got here in time. Fucker would have probably raped you if I hadn't."
"I highly doubt that, Peter," Hughes pushed him away from Roy a little, "Besides, he was just trying to help me." He took the glasses from Roy's clutch, "You know I'm practically blind without these stupid things."
Slowly regaining his nerve, Roy looked up. When his eyes met Hughes' his mouth went dry as his heart jumped into his throat as a lump. His eyes were…golden! They sparkled and were so close to his and very deep.
"Come on," Hughes slipped the glasses on, "let him go, Peter. You don't want to get thrown off the train again, do you? I mean I don't think I can talk the conductor into letting you back on a second time in a row."
"Fine…" the angry blonde dropped Roy after a stiff silence, "We'll get him and all the other alchemy freaks later when we pull into the academy." The alchemist crumpled to the ground with his back against the wall.
"That's right, Peter," Maes patted the blonde on the shoulder as they turned to exit the car, "Later."
Just as the door began to slide shut behind them Hughes turned, "Hey," he said catching the door, "Thanks." He smiled back at Roy and tapped his glasses in a half salute-half wave motion.
Roy wasn't quite sure if he returned the smile before Hughes released the door. The door closed swiftly with a soft click, casting him into the dark again as he stared distantly at the smudged chalk circle outlined in moonlight on the floor in front of him.
His eyes are golden…
God…I'm so fucked up…
(2 years later in Ishval…)
"Mustang…Major Mustang…can you hear me?"
Roy let out a painful groan. Even though he knew all the flames had been put out, his skin felt like it was still burning. It hurt to breathe and to even lie still. Every sigh, every breeze, every heartbeat was agony.
"My name is Dr. Marco," the gentle voice continued, "and you are in the Cathedral of the Blessed, which, since wartime, has been converted by the Fuhrer and our allies into a small military hospital."
"Doctor, why is it so dark," Roy managed to sputter out past his bandages, "Why can't I see?"
The doctor exhaled sadly, "The fire…it burned out your eyes and over 90% of your body. It's a miracle that you're even alive and talking only 1 month after the accident."
"Accident…so that's what they're calling it…" Roy thought to himself.
"Son," Dr. Marco continued, "I'm afraid I'm only passing through and will be here for only 3 days. That doesn't give us much time to heal you."
"Heal me…you have that power?"
"With this philosopher's ring, the same kind of ring the Fuhrer bestowed upon you, I do have the power to restore your body's appearance, even your eyes, back to or at least close to what they were. From there, after I leave, the nuns and nurses will assist you in rehabilitating your body. Indeed, it's going to be a long and hard road, Son, but in the end I think you won't regret taking it. You are, after all, a hero."
"A hero?"
"You saved the entire Ishbalian village of Cronus. Not to mention the great loyalty to the Fuhrer you've shown through all your selfless services."
Despite the excruciating pain, laughter began to tremble throughout the young flame alchemist's body, "I'm no hero, Doc. I'm a murderer. Before Cronus, I've burned hundreds of villages to the ground and perhaps have killed thousands. All because of that blasted ring." Under his bandages, Roy grimaced as he tried to turn against them, "Are you sure want to save me, Doc? I've killed doctors too, you know. Like you, they were just trying to help everyone…and I burned them until there was nothing left but ashes and dust…they had pictures of their little girl back home everywhere…"
After a long pause, Dr. Marco spoke again, "This is war, Son, and if I've learned anything as a doctor here it's that no one ever escapes it clean. We all have blood on our hands and all that one can truly hope for is that one's soul, like a phoenix, will emerge from it anew and worthy of salvation. It doesn't make what we've done right, but now you can make sure that what you do next will be the right thing."
Silence then, "Son," the physician continued, "Please. This is your second chance. If not for yourself, then do it for those you love back home. Do it for May."
"May?"
"Yes…" the Doctor shifted in his chair, "You were screaming her name over and over again the night they brought you in from the oil fields."
Roy let out a small breathless gasp as fragments of that night surfaced in his brain, "Maes…"
"Ah, so there is an 'S' at the end of her name. They had just assumed that you had been slurring the name due to your injuries," Marco shrugged, "She wouldn't happen to have any pictures of you that she could send along, would she? I would like to have them so I will know heal you properly and so that when I'm finished you're…recognizable. I have your military photo on hand, but I will also need different angles to estimate."
Though his eyes had been burned away, Roy could still feel tears or something like them, well up and seep out from behind the bandages across his face.
"No," Roy said, a stone settling in his throat, "Maes doesn't have any pictures of me." Before Roy had left, he had made sure of that.
"That's a pity. Is there anyone else, Son?"
"Hawkeye," Roy forced the name out of his lungs that had seemed to be growing weaker by the second, "Lt. Riza Hawkeye. We grew up together. She'll have pictures of me."
(Several years later…Present day…)
The stiff ruffles of her underskirt grated against his pale skin. With each firm jerk into her, Roy's blindfold grew damp.
After he had managed a kiss at their last encounter, she had forced him into restraints this time. He arched his back and pulled against the coarse rope about his wrists and ankles, letting out a heavy gasp after each of her rough thrusts. Eventually he felt the splintering burn from his ligatures grow until it finally spread warmth streaming down and around his extremities. On the feather edge of pleasure and pain, Roy bit his lip, stifling his screams.
If he wanted to get to heaven, he had to comply…
Additional notes: And there is ch 2! If you noticed, I've stuck with the 1st FMA series premise in regards to what happened to the Rockebells. (Though I must admit I like how FMA: Brotherhood is making Roy more bad ass and hot! Episode 19 = *love love love!*)
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter in all its tension and torture. Please let me know what you think by reviewing and commenting! (At least I hope haven't lost too many readers due to my uber long delay in getting this installment out…*sweat drop*)
